E

And ev'ry tree and ev'ry grassblade. Not

An unseen little stem, but that will stand

And wait and shine, and never ask wherefore

It came and why it has to wither. Thou

Art such a sentinel, O Heart! Thou hast

To stand and bloom and love beside the others,

And wither when thy work is done, the spot

Being given to another, whereupon

Thou standest. And that other heart is growing

{44}

And blooming into life beneath thy shade,

As strong as thine, as ruby-red as thine,

To wither and to fall beneath the scythe,

As thine has done. Why ask and why despair?

Why not be happy with the sun, the dew,

The other flowery hearts that, full of life

Unfold their petals, which are deep like thine,

And rich as thine? Ye are to be a glorious

And many-coloured meadow. Is it not

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